Facing The Future Together

The Hard Questions For Adult Children And Their Aging Parents: 100 Essential Questions For Facing The Future Together, with Courage and Compassion
by Susan Piver

With 100 questions on topics ranging from the practical to the emotional, the author makes it possible to have candid, comforting conversations that will have lasting benefits. Designed to facilitate this delicate process and give all members of the family time for contemplation.

When I was about ten years old, my mother began telling me what a good daughter I had been to her and saying that when she died (which, she always made sure to add, would not happen for a very, very long time), I should harbor no regrets about our relationship.

She has reiterated those words periodically over the last thirty-plus years. She has said them during periods when we got along, when we fought, when I was a child, and into my own middle age. She has said them when she really meant them and when it would have been almost impossible to mean them.

My mother's own mother died at just about the time she began offering her reassurances to me. And, as she lay in her hospital room with her four daughters gathered about her, my grandmother had said those very same words to them - that she loved them, that they had been wonderful daughters to her, and that they should have no regrets after she passed.

I know that my grandmother's words brought enormous comfort to my mother in the years that followed. She hasn't wondered if she should have done or said anything differently during her mother's life. And while I'm sure she has wished many times that her mother could have known her grandchildren better, attended this or that family event, been available to talk on the phone about life's big and small events, she has never, to my knowledge, regretted any aspect of their relationship.

While I didn't make the connection at the time, I now realize that my mother wanted to bestow the gift her mother had given her on me and my siblings as soon as possible. When I was small she only mentioned it now and then, and I barely listened to what she was saying, except to tune in very carefully to the part that went, "it will not happen for a very, very long time." Sometimes, depending on the amount of terror she saw on my face, she would add several more "verys."

As a teenager, I vacillated between moments of painful, gasping terror that she might actually die and a sort of spiteful hope that she would, both of which emotions were immediately followed by numerous superstitious gestures and phrases to counter the effect of my thoughts on her lifespan. I still didn't think she or my dad would ever really die, though.

When I was in my twenties, their deaths continued to seem quite impossible, but I began to admit to myself for several seconds at a time that my parents were actually mortal. Then, in my thirties, I began to take the idea seriously. My younger sister and I admitted to each other that we thought about our parents' death, but all we could do was cry and promise to be there for each other through this unthinkable eventuality.

My mother continues every now and then to tell me that I am a good daughter and should have no regrets. But now she's in her seventies, I'm in my forties, and I'm hearing her in a very different way. Suddenly, on some level, it's as if I'm taking these words in for the first time and allowing myself to contemplate them. Have I really been a good daughter? Are there things I'll regret? Are there things she regrets? What will it be like to lose each other? What details and plans do we need to think through? What does she really expect and want from me as she ages and reconciles with life's end?

I believe (and hope) that all families can benefit from having such conversations on their own terms and about the issues that are specifically important to them, and so there are no answers in this book - only questions. Each of us will have our own way of engaging our minds, and the minds of our family, in this conversation. Comfort levels will vary from family to family, and from topic to topic within each family. That's as it should be. For some, this dialogue will be an act of love and affection. For others, it will be about taking care of business and tying up loose ends. Or it may be both. There is clearly no right or wrong here. I encourage each family to review the questions and choose only those that are most appropriate - or useful - for them at this time.

How can we find the courage to contemplate the death of our parents? How can we best accompany them as they age? No matter how close or distant the relationship, it seems almost impossible - not to mention undesirable, upsetting, disorienting, and so much more - to imagine life without them. Why would anyone want to spend time thinking about such a thing? Or, even more unthinkable, talking about it together?

Some answers to these questions emerge when we begin considering what is likely to happen if we don't think or talk with our parents about their aging and death. There are consequences ranging from the practical (do they have life insurance?) to the emotional (is there anything we might later regret not having talked about?) to the spiritual (what prayers or rituals would they like me to observe on their behalf, in the moments or days following their death?). Ignoring these issues out of fear, denial, or procrastination can set us up to "miss" (or misinterpret) both our own and our parents' needs, hopes, fears, and longings as we contemplate and they themselves reconcile with their life's end.

Beyond these reasons - the practical, emotional, and spiritual - there is another consideration in thinking about our parents' life and death, and talking with them about it all. Whether our relationship is emotionally healthy or unhealthy, nourishing or unwholesome, reciprocated or unrequited, asking these questions is every child's opportunity to in some way honor his or her parents for the gift of life given. If the relationship has been close (and there is usually at least some feeling of warmth, even in unhappy relationships), it is an opportunity to concentrate one's gratitude into the essential gifts of time, attention, and loving-kindness. If the relationship has been more painful than not, if one harbors feelings of fear or anger (and even in the healthiest families, there is always some of this), it is an opportunity to transcend the relationship to which you've grown accustomed, and, if only briefly, to establish one that is sane, gentle, and appropriate for this time in both your lives.

As mentioned, the questions in this book cover a variety of topics. There are questions about finances, legalities, and housing. There are questions about religious beliefs, relationship issues, and legacy. But, in asking these questions with my own parents, I have found it impossible to separate the practical from the spiritual or emotional because, invariably, when you consider a question such as "Who would make decisions for you if you were not capable of making them for yourself?" both practical considerations and spiritual values and beliefs rise to the surface.

Practical considerations might include assigning responsibility for executing the appropriate paperwork and/or contacting experts or advisors who can help you implement whatever decision your parents make. But at the same time, no matter what those decisions might be, other important questions arise: questions of affection (who do your parents feel close to) and of values (who do they really trust). Even questions that seem purely pragmatic ("Where are your important papers kept?") can arouse very deep feelings. They may evoke issues of trust, failure, and loss of control - or none of these. Perhaps your parents are ambivalent or worried about disclosing the contents of one document or another, and telling you where those documents are kept would open the door to those feelings. It's important to be aware of the emotions that might accompany even the most straightforward questions.

Similarly, so-called spiritual questions such as "What are your beliefs about the afterlife?" can actually have practical implications in terms of burial rituals, choosing a funeral officiant, and so on. So don't be surprised if seemingly simple questions result in profound discussion, or if deeply sacred questions lead to conversations about finances, logistics, or other such mundane topics. In fact, this idea that the practical and the spiritual are not separate will never be more self-evident than when you and your parents are relating to end-of-life issues together.

Copyright © 2004 Susan Piver

About the Author

Susan Piver is the author of The Hard Questions: 100 Essential Questions to Ask Before You Say "I Do." She was also a writer, producer, and marketing specialist for the entertainment industry for more than a decade before launching Padma Media, which creates special book packages for bestselling authors.